


A Wild Call and a Clear Call

by therumjournals



Series: Kirk/McCoy Age of Sail AU [1]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: AU, Age of Sail, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-03
Updated: 2010-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therumjournals/pseuds/therumjournals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCoy takes up with Captain Kirk for a mission of vengeance on the high seas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wild Call and a Clear Call

The Enterprise limped into harbor at noon, her sails in tatters and one mast leaning perilously to port. The remainder of the damage was superficial - sections of the rail in splinters, a cannon lying uselessly on its side. A few men – fewer than there should be - were visible on deck, working diligently on repairs even as the ship docked and the sounds of a nearby tavern floated across the harbor.

James Kirk strode down the gangplank and up the dock toward the tavern. Inside, he squinted as his eyes adjusted to the dark interior. He took a deep breath, steeled himself, and then began to move through the chaos of the place. He stopped at each table, and placing his hands squarely on the surface, looked into the eyes of each man as he made his plea. Some men nodded and stood, some shook their heads and slumped farther into their chairs and their tankards.

Toward the back of the tavern, Kirk approached a lone figure, seated at a table in the corner. Despite the two-day stubble on his chin and a wild look in his eyes, Kirk could tell that the man was respectable, or once had been. Kirk leaned on the table, catching his eye.

“Just sailed in on the Enterprise out there.” He nodded toward the harbor. “Looking for a few good men for the next leg of the journey, if you’re so inclined.”

“No.” The word was a dismissal, but Kirk felt compelled to press.

“No? I would think that living in a place like this, you’d crave the freedom of the open sea.”

“Don't pander to me, kid,” the man shot back. “Coupla wooden boards all that protects you from a permanent swim. Hurricane might crop up, crush your ship like it’s a child’s toy. And don’t think I don’t know what’s out there in the depths either, see how you like your 'freedom' when the Kraken’s got his tentacles around your hull. The sea is disease and danger disguised as freedom and adventure.”

Kirk raised an eyebrow. “Poetic. It’ll be a damn shame to leave that kind of talent behind.”

“Dammit man, I’m a surgeon, not a sailor,” the man said, slapping a palm on the table.

Kirk nearly dropped his pint. “A surgeon! You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.“ His words came out in a rush, his attempt at persuasion forgotten. “We’ve got a man on board, the first mate. He’s badly injured. We’re trying to keep him comfortable, but…maybe there’s something to be done. Please, I beg you, come take a look at him.” His earnest blue eyes reflected the sincerity of his plea.

The man hesitated, then swigged down the rest of his drink and stood up, stumbling, but quickly regaining his footing. Kirk followed him out of the bar, watched him walk, figured he wasn’t that drunk, and even if he was, a drunk surgeon had to be better than the ancient cook currently responsible for medical care on board the Enterprise.

“Hey, where are you going?” The man was heading down a side alley instead of toward the harbor.

“Have to stop and grab my supplies,” came the reply. He paused outside a shabby looking dwelling.

Kirk glanced at the wooden sign that hung above the door. “Bit morbid, isn’t it? The bones?” he asked, gesturing toward the sign that marked this as a surgeon’s, a pair of bones crossed with a rough looking saw. The doctor shrugged. “Too often it’s what needs to be done.” The man stepped inside while Kirk waited impatiently. Moments later he emerged, carrying a brown satchel and followed by a beautiful dark skinned woman.

“Who’s this?” Kirk asked.

“This is Uhura. She can help us,” he said, and motioned that they would follow.

Kirk led them down the dock to the Enterprise, then belowdecks to the Captain’s Cabin. Inside lay a man, his face pale and eyes fluttering. “This is the first mate, Spock. It’s his leg,” Kirk directed.

The doctor pulled back the sheet and gasped. The bone was broken, he could tell immediately, and a nasty cut running the length of the thigh was showing signs of infection. Kirk stood to the side, looking concerned, as the doctor tended to the wound with various ointments and wrappings.

Finally, he stood up, wiping the sweat from his face. “He may not walk again. He needs to rest.”  
His assistant sat beside Spock on the bed, wiping his forehead with a cool cloth. He moaned weakly and his eyes fluttered, finally opening and catching sight of the beautiful woman beside him. His face had no expression, but he leaned into her touch and breathed deeply.

“We’ve got to move on. We can’t stay in the harbor. We’re in a fair amount of danger and it’s quite possible we’ll be boarded again. We can’t afford to have an injured man onboard.” Kirk was half talking to himself. He looked up, catching the doctor’s eye. “Can he stay here with you? While he recovers. We’ll come back for him when we can.”

The doctor looked at Spock, and at Uhura, who was whispering soothing words into Spock’s ear. The doctor nodded. “Uhura will care for him.”

They assembled a makeshift stretcher and between the two of them carried Spock as gently as possible to the place with the bones above the door. Inside, they lay him on a dilapidated straw mattress near the fireplace. Kirk knelt down and took a hold of Spock’s hand. “Spock, these people will take care of you. We’ll be back for you as soon as we can get rid of our cargo and shake the Narada. I promise.” Spock shook his head weakly and tried to speak. Uhura knelt down to give him a sip of water. “Do not run,” he gasped.

“But Spock, you said-“

Spock cut him off with another shake of his head. “You must fight them. Destroy them. You were right.” His head fell back onto the pillow from the effort. Kirk nodded, touched his first mate’s hand lightly, then stood and moved toward the door. The doctor was busy pulling items out of a chest, so Kirk called out a thank you to him and went to leave. He was halfway down the alley when he heard a shout behind him. He turned to see the doctor walking quickly down the alley, a slightly fuller satchel over his shoulder. He stopped in front of Kirk. “I’m coming with you.”

“Why, man?” Kirk asked in disbelief. “Surely you heard me say we’re in danger.”

“You said you needed a crew. You may need a doctor, as well.”

“I think we can be quite sure of that,” Kirk muttered to himself. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, looking the doctor in the eye.

“I have nothing to leave behind,” he replied.

Kirk raised an eyebrow. “Not even…?”

“Uhura is a friend, only. She took me in when I was fighting for my life. I’ve left her everything. She will be able to take care of herself, and your first mate. In the event that we do not return.”

Kirk ran a hand over his face. The possibility was more likely than he cared to admit. Spock knew it, too. At least this way he had a chance. Kirk nodded. “Alright then, Doctor…”

“It’s McCoy.”

“McCoy? ‘Spect I’ll just refer to you as Bones.”

McCoy raised an eyebrow behind Kirk’s back, and they continued down to the docks.

  
Kirk showed McCoy around the ship as the rest of the new crew trickled aboard. He put McCoy to work immediately, first straightening up the captain’s cabin, where Spock had lain injured for four days before they had reached port. Kirk oversaw the requisitioning of supplies for the next leg of the journey. The main mast had been patched together and was standing relatively upright by late evening. The men needed a rest, Kirk could see that, but he could also picture quite clearly in his mind’s eye the image of a hulking black ship sliding into view over the horizon and, hoping desperately to avoid that sight for another few days, he had the Enterprise sail out under cover of darkness.

***

McCoy lay in his hammock, trying to keep his mind off depths of water that lay beneath them and the fact that they had surely sailed out of sight of land by now. Hours passed before Kirk stumbled down the stairs and dropped into the hammock beside him.

“Why haven’t you taken the captain’s cabin?” he asked. McCoy’s voice in the darkness startled Kirk.

“I beg your pardon.”

“You’re captain now, aren’t you? You don’t need to sleep in a hammock anymore.”

“I can’t stay in there.” McCoy heard the pain in his voice. “You don’t know.” McCoy heard him choke back a sob.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He pushed himself up on his elbows, waiting for a response. When he heard nothing, he dropped back into his hammock and willed himself to fall asleep.

***

McCoy was in the galley the next morning when he heard a wild shouting from the deck above. He ran up the stairs to find the deck crowded with men. They were gathered in a circle and McCoy strained to see what they were looking at. He gasped when he saw that it was Kirk, being held around the neck by a dirty crewman, a pistol to his head. “You may think that the Captain’s still running from the Narada,” the man announced to the startled crew, “but he’s not. I saw the charts. We’re circling around, waiting for Nero and his men to find us. Captain wants to put us right in the line of fire, and I’m not having it. Who’s with me?”

Kirk was struggling for breath. McCoy could see that he was already injured, blood running down his arm. The man pushed the pistol harder against Kirk’s skull and cocked it, getting ready to fire.  
With a surge of blinding anger, McCoy pushed through the crowd, pulled a pistol from his trousers, took aim and fired. Kirk and the man both fell to the deck, and McCoy dropped to his knees. Kirk was coughing, gasping to regain his breath. Blood trickled from the forehead of his captor.

McCoy pulled one of Kirk’s arms around his shoulders and stood, facing the crowd.  
“Does anyone here echo this man’s sentiments?” McCoy asked in a voice of authority, nodding toward the man slumped dead on the deck. There was silence from the men. “Kirk is the captain now and you have willingly joined his crew. You will be handsomely rewarded when our mission is successfully concluded with the destruction of the Narada. Running is not the answer here.”

McCoy supported Kirk as they made their way to the Captain’s cabin. Kirk struggled a moment before letting McCoy pull him inside. The bed was made with fresh blankets and the room had been cleaned. McCoy sat Kirk on the bed and pulled Kirk’s shirt off to tend to his injury, a ragged dagger wound crossing his bicep. Kirk bit his lip as McCoy held his arm gently, washed the wound, and wrapped it in clean linens. He slid his hand down Kirk’s arm and squeezed his leg gently. “Your arm will be fine. Just give it a rest for a day or two, okay?”

Kirk met his eyes. “Thank you,” he said. He placed a hand on McCoy’s shoulder and left it there for a long moment. His eyes were drawn to the tantalizing line of McCoy’s jaw, to the shock of hair falling over his forehead, to the intensity and sadness of his dark brown eyes. He slid his hand up around the back of McCoy’s neck and tugged him forward, but McCoy pulled away, stood up, slid out from under his hand, leaving him clutching at nothing, his face flushing with shame. McCoy paused at the door to the cabin, his hands gripping to doorframe, his back still to Kirk as he muttered “Sorry” in a rough voice. He turned his head, told Kirk to get some rest, and left, the door swinging shut behind him. A great weariness came over Kirk and he let himself lie back on the Captain’s bed, hoping sleep would come quickly to push away the thoughts of the men who had slept there before him.

***

It was late afternoon when Kirk dragged himself up to the deck. He busied himself for a while, barking orders to the men, doing what he could himself without overtaxing his injured arm. It had been one day since they left port. He knew it could be no more than one or two days until they met the Narada, so he focused his efforts and those of his crew on cleaning cannons, gathering ammunition, and preparing for the final battle. As the sun dipped below the horizon, he found himself approaching the rail, where McCoy stood looking out to sea. He had wanted to avoid the doctor, had managed for a while, but something about the setting sunlight glinting off McCoy’s hair, something about his silhouette at the rail had pulled him like a magnet to McCoy’s side. They stood side by side at the rail, their eyes drawn to the empty horizon, watching, waiting.

McCoy drew in a breath, as though he were about to speak, but he said nothing, only slid one hand along the rail to brush against Kirk’s sleeve. He took the edge of Kirk’s sleeve between his fingers and tugged at it gently. Kirk turned to look at him, his brow creased in confusion. McCoy gestured with a nod of his head toward the stairs that led below. Kirk’s eyes widened in understanding and his breath caught in his chest as a flood of want and shame and hope and anger flowed through his chest, threatening to overwhelm him. Then McCoy was walking across the deck, stopping to look back at him, a question in his eyes, and Kirk answered his question by pulling away from the rail and following him, across the deck and down the stairs to the open door of the captain’s cabin. Kirk paused just inside the door, putting a hand on McCoy’s chest to stop him.

“Bones.” He seemed uncertain, shy, a contrast to the confidence with which he commanded the Enterprise. “I don’t want you to think… just because I’m the captain… there is no need to feel obligated.”

Bones took a step toward Kirk and closed the door behind them, his eyes dark. “I am not being forced into this. I apologize for my hesitation earlier. It’s just that… I was not sure I was ready for… emotional entanglements.”

Jim stepped closer, whispered in his ear. “It is not our emotions which I wish to become entangled,” he said softly, sliding a leg in between Bones’ thighs, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, and pulling him close, pressing their lips together.

McCoy relaxed into him, as though every muscle in his body had been tensed in anticipation of this moment. He tilted his head down, opening his mouth to Kirk’s kiss, letting his tongue be the first to slide between open lips, closing his eyes as their tongues met. He held Jim lightly at the hips as they kissed, and if he had thought sailors would skip the kissing altogether, he had never been so pleased to be proven wrong. Kirk’s mouth tasted like oak and rum and the salt of the sea, and McCoy followed the taste of salt onto his skin, kissing a trail across his jaw and down his neck. Kirk clutched McCoy closer, breathing hard, as the feel of McCoy’s lips on his skin sparked off a chain reaction through his chest, past his pounding heart and into his groin, which he pressed hard into McCoy. McCoy echoed the sentiment, grinding against him until he was practically pushing him backwards, and then Kirk pulled away and McCoy was terrified that he had done something wrong. But Kirk had taken hold of his arm and was pulling him insistently toward the bed, was pushing him down onto it, hands pulling at his shirt. McCoy struggled for a moment, resisting, but then Jim rubbed his palm along McCoy’s straining erection and he gave in, letting Kirk pull his shirt off in a single motion. Kirk set the shirt to the side and sat straddling him, looking down at him with eyes so blue that McCoy had to look away. Jim bit his lip and ran a hand gently down the angry scar that crossed from McCoy’s right shoulder to his left hip. McCoy couldn’t help the moan from escaping then, surprised at the gentle sensuality of the touch. McCoy pushed down the flood of emotions that accompanied the touch and arched his back, straining for more. Kirk complied, leaning down to run his tongue along the rough line, moving away only to swirl his tongue lightly around McCoy’s nipple. He traced the scar to its end, tugging his trousers lower to kiss gently where the edge of the scar met the smooth, perfect skin of McCoy’s hip. He unfastened McCoy’s trousers and wrapped his lips around McCoy’s eager cock, sliding wetly down the shaft, pressing the flat of his tongue hard against the underside. McCoy groaned and thrust into Kirk’s mouth. Kirk pulled back a little, but McCoy had a hand on the back of his head and was fucking his mouth, panting, out of control, and then he was coming and Kirk had to wrench himself free to keep from choking. Kirk scrambled quickly up the bed, prying McCoy’s hands away from his face, even as the doctor whispered that he was sorry, he was so sorry, and Jim kissed him gently and cupped a hand around his cheek and whispered that it was okay. He wrapped his arms around Bones until he caught his breath and relaxed, then tipped his chin up with a finger until their eyes met.

“Jim, I’m sor-“

“Shh.” Jim put a finger to McCoy’s lips. “It’s been a long time for me, too.” He unfastened his own trousers and took hold of McCoy’s hand, sliding it down and wrapping it around his aching cock. Keeping a hold on McCoy’s hand, he moved it slowly at first, then faster, showing McCoy what he liked. McCoy let Jim dictate the motion, then made it his own, twisting, squeezing, sliding up to brush the sensitive tip. Jim let go, running his hand instead over McCoy’s thigh and up his side and into his hair, pulling him close for a long, deep kiss. He rocked into McCoy’s hand, moaned softly, and then he was coming, warm liquid spurting over McCoy’s hand, slick against his skin as he kept moving, riding the wave of his climax until he sank back into the mattress, his eyes closed and a smile on his face.

***

Kirk awoke with a start. The first thing he noticed was the moon, shining in the darkness outside the cabin window. The second thing that he noticed was that McCoy still lay beside him on the bed. He hadn’t expected that, and smiled a little at the realization. McCoy’s eyes were closed but he twitched and jerked in his sleep. Kirk watched him for a minute or two, a concerned frown etching his face as McCoy seemed to get more agitated, twisting in the sheets and moaning. A thin sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead. Kirk pushed himself up on one elbow and reached an arm across McCoy’s chest, steadying him. “Shh,” he whispered. “Shh, Bones, you’re okay, everything’s okay.” Bones gave a final moan and jerked awake. His eyes darted around the room. He was scared, Jim realized, didn’t know where he was. “Hey, Bones, it’s okay, it’s me, Jim. You’re on the Enterprise, remember?” Bones turned toward him, buried his face in Jim’s chest. Jim held him close, stroking his back soothingly. When Bones pulled away, Jim could see the tears in his eyes, could see him struggling to hold them back. Jim kissed him on the forehead. “What is it Bones? What’s wrong?”

“The Narada,” Bones said, his voice a low, rough whisper, an edge of anger to it instead of the fear that Jim had expected.

“The Narada?” Jim pulled away, looking confused. What could he know of the anger and hatred that ship deserved?

“Nero,” Bones ground out in a strained voice. He turned his head away from Jim. “Killed my wife. My child.”

Jim’s mouth hung open. He’d had no idea. “A wife? Bones…I’m so sorry.” He pulled further away, but Bones turned back to him and grabbed him by the wrist.

“Jim…it’s okay.” Their eyes met, glinting in the darkness. “Please. I needed this, I …need you. Stay close to me.” Jim didn’t hesitate, leaning forward again and pulling Bones into his arms, put a protective hand on the back of Bones’ head and buried his face in Bones’ neck. “I’m here,” Jim whispered.

They lay in silence for a long moment before Bones spoke again. His voice was a choked whisper and he clutched Jim tightly as he said, “Tell me about the Narada.”

Kirk closed his eyes and pulled away, to lie beside him, his eyes on the stars visible from the cabin window. McCoy cursed himself for asking. He knew only too well how unpleasant it was to have your worst memories brought to the surface. But then the captain spoke. “It’s a long story…but I’d like to tell it. I want you to know.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Jim told him then, his voice flat, his arms at his sides as Bones lay next to him, aching to touch. “The Enterprise was commissioned to carry a shipment of rum and gold, with our first stop to be in the Caribbean. Pike was the captain, Spock was first mate. I was brought on at the last minute. We were aware of the cargo, of its rather dubious nature, and that we had been commissioned by a notorious ship called the Narada. But, money is money and we were all eager to get back to sea, so we didn’t think too much about it. Until we made port in Hispaniola, where the Narada met us, and let us know that our cargo was meant for the shores of Africa and that we were to exchange them for slaves. Captain Pike is – was - a man of morals and integrity – goddammit – he refused to carry out the second leg of the trip. Not only that, but we pulled out of the harbor late that night as fugitives with our cargo hold still full. The Narada chased us, as you would expect, and there was a…confrontation. As you can see, the Enterprise wasn’t much damaged on the outside, but Nero still destroyed us nonetheless. Nero – their captain – a cruel man with a dark heart. He requested that Pike come aboard to work things out diplomatically. Like a child who still believes that everyone is good at heart, Pike went. The crew of the Enterprise was dutifully lined up at the rail when Nero pulled Pike back onto the deck, put a pistol to his head, and killed him. Right in front of us.” Jim’s voice broke. He inhaled a shaky breath, and turned toward McCoy, reaching for him. Bones caught his hand and threaded their fingers together.

“But, then, you already know of the cruelty of Captain Nero and the heartless beast that is the Narada and her crew.” Kirk waited in the darkness to see if McCoy would tell him more. He moved closer, close enough to feel Bones shudder, to hear him swallow, and to feel the quickening beat of his heart. “I already knew,” Kirk continued. “Not the whole story, of course, but something. After all, you didn’t seem very eager to join my crew until after you heard me mention the Narada to Spock.”

McCoy’s inhaled deeply and squeezed his hand. “Very perceptive of you,” he murmured.

Jim placed his lips to McCoy’s temple and kissed him softly. “Tell me.”

“I suppose I owe you that,” Bones said. Jim closed his eyes, suddenly certain that he did not want to hear.

“I had traveled to the Caribbean with my wife and child. My daughter was sickly and I knew the warm air would be beneficial to her. I set up shop as a doctor for the port – you saw – and we settled in. One year ago, the Narada sailed into port, and Nero and some of his men stormed my home, demanding that I tend to Nero’s first mate. I did what I could and made the mistake of telling them that he would need tending to by a doctor. They demanded that I come with them when they left port. I told them no, and protested that I could not leave my wife and daughter. They…ensured that would no longer be a concern.”

Jim inhaled sharply beside him. Bones had long ago ceased to find the tears that he wished would come.

“They dragged me to the ship – have I ever mentioned to you that I hate the sea? I escaped that night, and got away, but not before they-“ He took Jim’s hand in his and ran it across his bare chest, across the scar that Jim had earlier treated as if it was a thing of beauty and not the product of a cruel man with a cruel blade. Jim felt tears forming at the corners of his eyes and buried his face in Bones’ chest as he continued. “I stumbled into the woods and would have died, had not Uhura found me there. Surely Nero thought I had. Uhura tended to me there in the woods until I was well. But she too had no family and no home, besides the most rudimentary hut. I brought her with me back to my home. I meant to continue offering my services as a surgeon, but found that I could not. My hands shook, I could not bear the sight of blood. I could not look at a child without weeping. I drank my days away instead. Uhura made sure I ate and that I did not try to harm myself. That is how you found me. When I heard you mention the Narada, I felt..I do not know…I thought I would never want to face the ship that torments my dreams. And yet, when I saw you…I thought…maybe this was my chance. My only chance. And I wanted to help. So here I am.”

“And you still hate the sea.”

“More than ever.”

Jim nodded. “Thank you.” For telling him. For coming with him. For lying in this bed with him. He wasn’t sure.

“There is comfort, in sharing grief,” Bones said, quietly.

Kirk stroked his hand softly over Bones’ hair, biting his lip to keep from saying out loud the thought that had come to him then, fully formed, that perhaps, someday, they might be able to find comfort in sharing happiness.

***

Kirk spent the next day in the crow’s nest, scanning the horizon for any sign of the Narada. It was boring and hot and he amused himself by leaning over the edge and waiting for Bones to look up at him, which he did with rather flattering regularity. Kirk would catch his eye and wink or wave and he could practically see the doctor blushing from thirty meters away.

It was late afternoon before he saw anything on the horizon but the endless line of sea and sky. He spotted a dark blotch on the horizon and watched it for sometime before he called out “Land ho!” It was an island, a small one, and they were headed toward it. As Jim lowered the spyglass, he thought he glimpsed movement at the south side of the island. He pulled the glass back up to his eye, and caught the tail end of a ship as it moved behind the island. The Narada. He called down to the navigator to hold the Enterprise steady, drop sails and change their heading so they were moving away from the island. Kirk scrambled down the rigging and gestured for Bones to join him and his navigator as they made a plan. “The Narada must plan to remain behind the island overnight. We’ll hold here and make our approach tomorrow.” The other men nodded in agreement. “No lights on deck tonight. I’ll take first watch.”

***

It was well after midnight when Kirk stood in the doorway of the men’s sleeping quarters, staring at McCoy’s hammock for a long moment, his fingers twitching at his sides. He was half-hard and flushed with adrenaline and fear for the day to come. He just wanted to lean over Bones, to see him there, breathing, to kiss him maybe, just once on his soft lips, that was all. But he knew he would lose control, knew he would want to climb in beside him, to cling to him and to say things that he might regret in the morning, so instead he clenched his fists and tore himself away.

Kirk lay awake in the terrifying solitude of the Captain’s cabin. Last night, with Bones curled beside him, it had been almost comfortable, but tonight he felt the emptiness of the bed that should never have been his. A knock on the door startled him upright, then he was out of bed, clad only in his trousers. He opened the door. Bones looked at him with desperate eyes, a hand gripping the doorframe as if he’d had to force himself not to turn away. “Jim,” he started, and his voice was tired and rough. “We fight the Narada tomorrow…”

Jim grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “Get in here.” He pulled him inside and slammed the door shut.

They stood in the middle of the room, clutching at each other, silent except for the sound of their breathing, hard and fast with excitement and passion and fear. Jim’s hands were wrapped in McCoy’s shirt, and McCoy wrapped his hands around the back of Jim’s neck and pulled their foreheads together. They stood like that for a long moment, until Jim laughed and Bones growled and they moved simultaneously for the bed.

Bones pushed himself up and slid down between Jim’s legs. He placed a hand on the fastenings of his trousers, but instead of untying them, he mouthed over the line of Jim’s erection. He looked up at the captain. “Is this what you want?”

“I want everything,” Jim breathed back.

“Everything?”

“Everything….tonight.” His voice broke.

“Jim…”

Jim sat up and grabbed hold of McCoy’s arms, looking at him intently in the darkness. “We may only have tonight.” They clutched at each other, kissing frantically, McCoy pushing his hands into Jim’s hair, pushing him back down on the bed. He scrambled down to tug at Jim’s trousers, then he was tasting Jim’s skin, running his tongue up the length Jim’s cock and over the weeping slit. He almost didn’t trust himself to slide his lips around Jim’s shaft, to take him all in, but he did, in one smooth motion, engulfing him, sucking in around hot, smooth skin. Jim moaned and pushed a hand through McCoy’s hair and then he was sliding a spit-slicked finger into himself and bucking into McCoy’s mouth. McCoy pulled away with a groan to watch Jim touch himself, his finger sliding out then disappearing as he thrust it back into his tight entrance. McCoy couldn’t tear his eyes away as he watched, his cock aching, and Jim added another finger, pumping hard into himself, arching his back at the sensation. Jim caught McCoy’s eye and nodded, begged, _please Bones_ , and McCoy was up on his knees, tearing his trousers open and pulling Jim’s legs apart. He pressed himself against Jim and pushed slowly inside, gasping at the tight heat, a feeling better than he could have imagined. He thrust, slowly at first, but it wasn’t enough, not for either of them, and Jim was saying “ _harder, God, yes, please, harder_ ” and McCoy thrust harder, gripping Jim’s thighs hard enough to leave bruises and slamming into him, every move shooting sparks of ecstasy through him. And he wanted this to last forever, but it was too good, too tight, and he felt himself clenching, trying to hold back, but it was like being on the edge of a waterfall, and then he was over the edge, spilling into Jim as they both cried out. Jim pulled McCoy down to whisper roughly in his ear, “more, more.” McCoy tangled their hands together and said, “Yes, Jim, more.”

They spent the night exploring each other’s bodies, wringing every ounce of pleasure from each other until they succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep in a tangle of limbs. They woke up to the sound of a fist pounding on the cabin door.

“Captain, the Narada has been sighted. She’s heading our way. Orders, sir!”

Jim was awake immediately, out of bed, throwing on his clothes and barking out commands. “Have the crew man their stations, but do not fire unless fired upon. I wish to have words with Nero.”

Kirk watched the Narada’s approach from the deck rail, his stance sure, his arms crossed, McCoy at his side. At some point, last night, or maybe the night before, McCoy’s desire to take down the Narada had ceased to be a mission of vengeance against his family, and had become a mission – a need – to protect Jim and to get both of them out of this alive.

Kirk watched the Narada approach, a foul sight accompanied by a foul smell on the wind. The Narada’s cannons were ready but her men were still as she approached, stopping only meters away from the Enterprise. It seemed that Kirk would get his wish after all.

Nero jumped up on the railing, taking hold of a line to hold himself steady. They glared at each other as the Narada approached.

“Guns out!” Kirk yelled to the men. There was a sliding and scraping of metal on wood as the cannons slid into position.

“Captain Kirk!” Nero called. “You will come aboard the Narada immediately!”

“Prepare to fire all guns!” Kirk shouted in response.

“Kirk, this is your last warning! There are innocents aboard this ship. Prisoners. Is that a price you are willing to pay?”

McCoy gripped Jim’s elbow and spoke into his ear, his voice strained. “Fire, Jim.” Jim’s eyes narrowed. He knew where McCoy’s words came from, he knew the feelings of rage and revenge that washed over them both, that threatened to overpower their humanity. The Narada was upon them now, and he could see the cruelty in Nero’s eyes. With an animal cry, Jim rushed at the rail, leaping onto it and throwing himself over the short span of water between the ships, his body smashing into Nero’s and carrying them both onto the deck of the Narada. He punched Nero hard in the face, pushed himself up with a hand around Nero’s neck. Through the blood rushing in his ears he could hear crewmen from the Enterprise following him, could hear the sound of fists hitting flesh, of swords being drawn, and he left the destruction of the crew to his men. Under his grip Nero gasped and struggled on the deck. Jim grinned a dark grin. How good it felt to have Nero under his hands, how much more satisfying than letting the cold iron of a cannonball do the job for him. Suddenly, he was yanked upwards by the shoulder and found himself looking into the madness of McCoy’s wild eyes. The eyes flickered and Jim saw a brief flash of his friend there, and heard McCoy’s rough voice say “Please, Jim,” before the madness returned. Jim backed away as McCoy fell to his knees, pulling his dagger from his belt and plunging it straight into Nero’s chest. There were no words, no quarter given, no forgiveness asked or offered, and Jim knew it had to be that way, and he felt a weight lifted from his shoulders as the life drained from Nero onto the deck in a flood of dark red. Jim nodded at McCoy and turned to make his way through the commotion and belowdecks to seek out the innocents of whom Nero had spoken.

He found them huddled in a corner in the galley, clutching each other, terrified. Jim knelt before them, telling them that he was there to save them, that everything was going to be okay, that Nero was dead and they were free of him. The one that looked no older than a cabin boy wept then, and the other one spoke comfortingly to him, held him so tightly that Jim had to pry his arms loose in order to help them both up and lead them out. On the deck of the Narada, Kirk shouted orders. Take what they could find and get their asses back to the Enterprise. The message was clear. The Narada would not be taken as a prize. Kirk planned to blast the ship, sending it, Nero, and all the evil that both stood for to the depths of the unforgiving sea. When the last man had returned to the Enterprise, Kirk jumped up onto a barrel and shouted down to his men – “Fire everything!!” The cheer of the men was lost amidst the deafening boom of the cannons and the sound of splintering wood as the Narada vaporized in front of them. It was a grim satisfaction that Jim felt and he didn’t smile. Instead he jumped down and made his way through the men toward the rail, where Bones stood staring at the wreckage of the Narada as though he could light its remains on fire with his glare. Jim reached out to brush his arm and when McCoy turned to look at him, neither could speak and there was a moment of stillness between them. Then they were stumbling toward the stairs and into the captain’s cabin and as the door slammed shut behind them they gripped each other in a crushing embrace, crying and laughing and trying to remember to breathe.

***

Kirk hated this part. Destroying the Narada had been his goal – he hadn’t thought much beyond that. He hadn’t thought of the men who had followed him into the fray, hadn’t thought about how swords could cut so deeply, how easily bones could break, but now it was all laid out before him along the length the beach. Bones had insisted on bringing the wounded ashore, insisting that the rocking of the waves and the merciless sun made wounds fester. “Besides, I work better when I can feel solid land under my feet,” he claimed. So here they were, and here they’d been for two days, and he’d seen nothing of Bones but his back as he leaned over the injured, and it would be a long time before he could get the moans and screams out of his ears, even knowing that for the most part, the pain was a function of bones being set or skin stitched, and that most of the men would pull through in the end. It didn’t help that he’d run out of ways to keep himself busy after a day of fetching water and helping with repairs to the Enterprise. It also didn’t help that McCoy’s hair was lightening in the sun, and that he was doing most of his work with his shirt undone almost to the waist. At noon on the second day, Jim had leaned down next to Bones to offer him water, and as Bones took the cup from him, their fingers brushed, sending a jolt straight to his cock. He felt dizzy for the next half hour and took refuge under a tree on the fringe of the jungle, his eyes never leaving McCoy’s figure.

He gathered fruit from the jungle and ate it as he watched the sun set, until he could take it no longer. McCoy was leaning over one of the wounded sailors, changing his bandages and making sure that he was comfortable. Just as he finished tying the last bandage around the sailor’s arm, he felt a strong hand grip his own arm and yank him up out of the sand. “What are you-? Jim. Captain,” he corrected, glancing toward the rest of the crew who had set up camp nearby.

“Come with me.”

“Captain, I haven’t finished tending to these men.”

“You’ve been tending to them for two days straight. Will anyone die if you leave them for an hour?”

“No.”

“Good.” He tugged at McCoy’s arm and dragged him into the cover of the forest. McCoy followed Jim closely through palm trees and underbrush and darkness, hoping that he was as sure of where he was going as he seemed. They emerged in a moonlit clearing, which McCoy was only able to get the faintest impression of before Jim was pressing him up against a tree, pressing lips against his mouth. He gasped in surprise and Jim took the opportunity to meet McCoy’s tongue with his own, and finally McCoy remembered to kiss back, to wrap his arms around Jim and to pull him close enough to feel how much Jim wanted this.

“Jim,” he whispered roughly.

“I couldn’t wait,” Jim whispered back. He punctuated his words with kisses along McCoy’s neck and jaw and chest. “I know it’s only been two days, but I couldn’t wait. I…”

“I need you,” Bones interrupted, clutching at Jim and burying his face in Jim’s neck.

Jim huffed out a surprised laugh. “Yeah. Yeah. I need you, too.”

They relaxed, their foreheads touching.

“What…what are we gonna do?” Jim asked.

“You’re the captain of the Enterprise, Jim.”

“But you don’t like the sea.”

McCoy tilted Jim’s head up. “I would go anywhere with you, Jim. The sea, the sky, the end of the world. Anywhere.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, let’s do that. Let’s go there, all of those places. Together.”

“Okay.”

“But first, let’s take a holiday.”

“A holiday? Where?”

“Here. This island. We’ll go check on Spock and Uhura, drop the crew, and come back here for a while.”

McCoy looked around, at the jungle, at the moon shining through the trees, at the smiling young captain in front of him, blue eyes bright with excitement, with an innocent optimism that somehow remained after everything that he’d been through. McCoy pulled him closer, pressing a kiss into his hair.

“It is beautiful.”

Jim’s voice was muffled in his chest, but McCoy smiled as he heard him add, “We’ll bring the rum.”

*The End*  



End file.
